


Russian Rose

by Teaandchips



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Hydra's got me fucked up, cute fic?¿, great googly moogly everything has gone to shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:04:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teaandchips/pseuds/Teaandchips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I didn't sign up for this." Her crimson stained lips are set in an angry line, lab coat crinkling as she crosses her arms.</p><p>His hand is immediately at her throat, "Tell me when I ever handed you anything to sign, my dear?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Doctor?" 

She's turning abruptly, a group of men escorting the lone asset over to her. The lead is prodding his flesh and bone arm with the tip of his gun, spinning on her to bark harsh Russian insults.

"Я не могу справиться с этим." It's a mechanical answer, one drilled in since day one because it seems to be just about the only thing they listen to.

"Let's take a look at you, asset." 

She doesn't know his real name, but he has these soft crystalline eyes. His hair long, wavy to a certain extent. 

He's rolling his shoulders, staring blankly into space. Blood is running down his cheek and forehead, the mark in the form of feminine claws. A last ditch attempt at a women's freedom, her life. The doctor rolls away the implications, mostly because they don't teach you how to handle that shit in med school.

Glove covered hands are unwrapping an alcohol wipe, "Asset, this may sting just a bit." He hisses under her touch, causing her brow to furrow slightly. 

She's wiping down the bigger gashes, assessing whether they'll need stitches or not. She settles on deciding they don't, padding them gently with the sparse amount of cotton they gave her.

The sparse amount of supplies in general. She's a doctor not a first aid assistant.

She's turning to grab another alcohol wipe, spinning to face him and freezing. There's the haunting sound of every gun in the room being moved to aim. 

Cool metal fingers are at her neck, the prosthetic simply resting on her throat. Palm flat, grip nonexistent. Just simply laying there.

"Asset, what are you-"

"Why are you here?" It's vague, but his flinty gaze is on hers and it conveys what's unsaid.

"They needed a doctor. I needed a job." She leaves out the unecessary details that will have her head on Mr. Pierce's wall.

He seems content with this answer, metal plated thumb moving to stroke gentle circles. His hand finally moving after what seems like hours. The guns in the room all lower, and she moves back to treating him.

His once inquisitive, and quite frankly alive look has left him. Cold, unmoving stare zeroed in on the wall behind her.

"Curiouser and curiouser," she murmurs softly under her breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His hands are at her hips, lips dragging along her shoulder.

"я не могу справиться с этим." It's what she starts with this time. 

After some amount of whining and general shouting, they've given her actual medical tools. It seems well timed, the gash on the asset's flesh arm is all too needing.

She's putting pressure on the wound to try and stop the blood. It's slicking the rag, her hands and her coat. The asset remains unmoving, like he isn't even there. 

_A ghost story._

Eventually the tide of red ends, leaving her wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. The sickly sweet iron smell making her grimace. 

"Вы не сшить его," comes the voice of the lead. His eyes appraising her carefully, head tilting as he watches her confusion turn to outrage.

"You expect to bring him here with wounds like this and not let me treat him? You stupid- Ты никчемный сукин сын . Приведение его ко мне , а потом ..." 

The lead moves toward her rapidly, raising a hand. She continues to stare him down with out fault. The asset atop the table, suddenly watching them both with a living gaze. 

Crimson stained lips peel back in a snarl, turning away as the lead stalks to his former position by the door. 

"This may hurt," plastic covered fingers move out of the way from the syringe. Only a minor medicine for keeping an infection at bay.

She's pacing over to the table with the medical supplies, moving to grab a piece of gauze.

"Отбой , солдат!" 

Her heart batters against her rib cage, shaking her to the core because those words never mean anything good.

A hand finds her hip, followed by a cooler one. She knows it's him by the feeling of metal hand platelets catching in the fabric of her blood stained coat. 

He's quiet, his lips just brushing along her shoulder. Hips pressing flush to hers, a hand lifting to sweep her hair to the side. There's a warm sort of rumble that leaves his chest, lips finding that soft spot just behind her ear.

She would say she's not afraid of him, but she would be lying. 

His scruff is tickling the side of her neck, flinching as he thrusts his hips into her own. 

There's a sharp, twistedly mirth filled sound she isn't used to hearing down in this bunker. 

The lead is laughing at her, gun still aimed for the asset. But enjoying her struggle nonetheless. 

"Seems all he needed was a woman, hmm?" His thick, Russian accent mingles with the words, making them all the harsher.

"Yes, this is all very funny-" Her breath catches as he runs his teeth over her skin.

Hands flailing outward to catch herself as he shoves forward suddenly, smooth lips sucking at the pale expanse of her neck. His hips start a slow grind into her backside, leaving her cursing gently under her breath because while alone she might not be so adversed. But she's not letting that stupid, fucking guard see her like this. 

So she does what she knows, she lets out the gentlest little moan. The asset responding to the noise immediately, metal hand once more at her throat. Just placed lightly against her skin.

Her fingers reach behind to comb through his hair, listening to the nearly soundless sigh he emits. She's twisting in his grip, turning to face him. His ocean hued gaze seems so very alive when it meets hers. 

He's on her in an instantly, smooth lips trailing kisses down her throat. She wants to get this in control once more. He's busying himself with sucking, yet another bruise when she speaks.

"I need to bandage your arm." It's soft and breathy, but it has him rising nonetheless. 

His too blue gaze finds the purpling bruise he just finished worrying onto her skin with his teeth. He seems satisfied with his work, moving and wordlessly sitting on the cold, metal table.

He's more alert then she's seen him, less mechanical, more breathing being. Cerulean gaze following her every move as she puts the gauze pad over the gash. Securing it with a few wrappings of medical tape, and by the time she's finished he's back to staring, lifeless.

Later, when she's in her dorm of the bunker; her gaze is running over the three, prominent love bites scattered across her neck. A phrase from earlier echoes in her head once more.

 _A ghost stor_ y.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's digging metal fingers into the place where flesh meets prosthetic, ripping into it and tearing downward.
> 
> Her full bottom lip trembles as metal odds and ends rain down like sweet water.

"Doctor!" 

The metal door to her bunker hits concrete wall, forcing her body upright in a blink. Bright chocolate gaze finding that young boy, the file coordinator. 

The one who isn't wholly on team Nazi yet, but he'll get sucked in eventually. They all do.

"It's the asset, he-" 

"Grab my coat." 

He nods, and she's bringing up a brisk jog through the hallway. Bare feet barely making a sound as she rounds corners like hellfire is licking at her heels. 

Her pace falters at the anguished scream leaving the room ahead. But she pushes on, met with a sight she hasn't seen since she arrived.

All guns are pointed at the asset who stands center of the collective. His hands are tearing at his hair, snarling out noises she wasn't sure were human. Then he's digging metal fingers into the place where flesh meets prosthetic, ripping into it and tearing downward.

Her full bottom lip trembles as metal odds and ends rain down like sweet water. She's ending this with a well determined sort of skid into the circle of armed guns and distressed soldier.

Wild, inhuman eyes find her figure, sliding over her body from head to toe. Metal platelets hiss as he rips his fingers out, taking a step toward her and then another.

She's got both hands out in surrender, like you would with a spooked animal.. Or a rabid dog. 

"Hey, hey, look it's me." Fingers are moving to gesture to the bruises marring her neck before moving forward again, palm out.

Broad shoulders roll and shudder, the change instantaneous. He sways on his feet, like he couldn't handle his own weight. 

Then he's upon her like she's homecoming. His fingers are moving everywhere, along her crimson stained lips, her hips, her neck. As if he hasn't seen her in ages instead of hours. 

He settles for wrapping his arms around her smaller waist, stooping to bury his face into the crook of her neck. Hands worming their way under her tank top to rest on her bare back.

"Отбой. Активов содержится..." 

The guns lower, the file coordinator is still holding her lab coat with an expression of pure awe settling on his freckled face. 

Gentle fingers run through the Asset's hair, leaving him nuzzling at her skin. His murmur is muffled against her, but she doesn't ask him to repeat it. He's settled like this, far be it from her to disturb him now.

"я возьму его отсюда." The response to her words is harsh, barking words from every guard in the room.

"You want another incident, or do you want to take off your shifts?" Her tone leaves no room for argument, watching the guards in the room all quiet.

"Come." It's soft, just low enough for the asset to hear. 

He falters while retracting his grip, like he's afraid if he moves she'll fade into the dull concrete walls. She's gripping gently at his pinky finger, just like an act of holding hands. 

Her pace is slow at first, getting him to realize that she's leading him. He seems to disappear into that mindless state he's usually set in. His body bumping lighting into hers when she stops to get her coat.

The young man looking at her like she's the next coming of God. She might as well be, walking around with Hydra's best assassin at her back. 

"Don't let them get to you, kid. They have nothing without the asset." Her words end when she's taking her coat from his grip, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek in thank you and ambling along once more.

He's walking behind her solemnly, lifeless except for the rattling movement of his chest as he breathes. Broad frame bumping into hers once more whilst she stops at the doorway of her room.

The pause was to wake him from his reverie, which partially worked. She's shutting the large, metal door once she's ushered him inside. Gently flicking the worn down latch to lock it, not wanting a guard tearing in here while she's trying to sleep.

She turns to find him watching her with a gaze too blue to fathom. A blush tints her cheeks, but she bustles along. Petite frame slipping under her covers, sitting up when she finds him simply staring.

"Sleep." 

The one word seems like the simplest concept to him once it leaves her pretty lips.

She's clicking the bedside lamp off while he slides in next to her. His hand going around her side, pulling her back into his chest. 

A sound like a little hum leaves her once he settles his face into the crook of her neck. 

He realizes that this is much better then a cold, metal table.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His unwavering gaze is locked onto the place where her crimson stained bottom lip creased and spilt. 
> 
> The bloodied gash looking like it bothered her greatly, but she hadn't had the time to quite take care of it yet.

The lead finds out about her therapy technique, giving her a split lip and several bruises to show for it.

She was just about to take the plunge and press the alcohol wipe to her bottom lip when they bring him in, her nails digging into the metal table harshly.

Bright crystalline eyes move onto her immediately, taking in the various bruises littering her skin. 

She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. It's small and tight lipped, the gesture yanking on the sore skin of her lip.

Gentle hands are blotting the quickly reddening rag to the gash across his chest. She's holding the pressure on with one hand, moving to grab a clean rag with her free one.

His unwavering gaze is locked onto the place where her crimson stained bottom lip creased and spilt.

The bloodied cut looking like it bothered her greatly, but she hadn't had the time to quite take care of it yet. 

There's the lavender imprint of a hand at the base of her throat, lightly covering one of his darker love bites.

Metal fingers move slowly, stopping her flustered movements at bandaging the cut across his chest. They're skittering up her throat, along the dark bruise at her cheek bone and over to her permanently crimson lips. 

He's standing cautiously, as thought this time he's the one afraid of spooking her. Suddenly, towering over this petite little girl, his nose brushing hers as they share a breath. 

His smooth lips touch hers tentatively, worried of injuring her swollen bottom lip further. Prosthetic arm circling her waist, her hands are shaking lightly where they rest on his chest. 

That gives him the need to deepen it, tongue sliding along her lip. The iron rich taste of blood making a warm, soothing sound rumble in his chest. 

He's sucking her bottom lip between his, committing the kittenish sigh she makes to memory. It's all glorious, the feel of her against him, the smell of her, the warmth.

He releases his hold on her, forehead bowing to lean on hers. Soon sliding to run his lips carefully over her cheekbone. She's clinging to him like he's the support instead of the latter. 

"Easy..."

It's the second thing she's ever heard him say in English. And her trembling returns tenfold, his hand rubbing at her back. Calloused fingers pressing through her coat and clothing to fit into the dimples at the base of her spine.

She doesn't know who this man is, not the asset she's known. But something other, something before. 

Petite frame peels away from his, still shaky hands moving to press gauze over the gash across his body; securing it with careful presses of medical tape. 

The lead walks into the room, she takes a step back and bows her head. Heavily illustrating the fact that she's done here and he's in charge from here on out.

The pieces are clicking together, the sound of his own heartbeat echoing too loud in his ears. Because she's afraid, and she deserves better then to be afraid.

The man in question stalks contemplatively into the room. His smile at her figure is one that sent grown men stumbling in need of a place to hide.

He's circling her slowly, enjoying his stroll all too much. He stops once he's in front of her fully, dirtied fingers finding her chin; yanking upward so her gaze meets his.

"See? Isn't this much better?" 

His words are thick and hard to understand with the harsh accent, but it doesn't take any deciphering to find the threat there.

Metal arm platelets click and hiss at the quick movement, a finalized snapping accompanying them locking down over the head guard's wrist. The satisfying crunch of bone is ringing in his ears, watching his little Doctor stumble back out of the leech's reach. 

"Нажмите ее снова, и я буду иметь голову." 

The asset's tone is grave, too blue gaze drilling into that of the man screaming in his grip. The clicking of guns being set to shoot follows, flinty eyes finding guards had filled the small, dingy lab.  

He throws his hand away, the man attached dropping to the ground in anguish. Hand flopping unnaturally before he cradles it to him, guards stepping forward to drag him back. 

Heavily booted feet drag with every step backward, body positioned in front of the pretty little brunette. Her trembling hand moving to his and wrapping comfortingly around his pinky finger.

His message is glass shatteringly clear, the guards in the room standing down once they gather what has occurred. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her gentle fingers are skittering along his chest, like she's committing him to her memory. 
> 
> His smooth lips are at her throat, pressing ever so soft kisses along her bruised skin.

When they make it back to her room he sees her trembling return. Harsh breathes are blowing past her crimson stained lips, shoulders shaking as a sob finally bleeds out. 

Her hands moving to cover her mouth whilst she tries to quiet her distress. He's on her in an instant, calloused fingers running all along her skin. 

Metal fingers swiping away tear after tear until finally he's just lifting her. Broad frame moving to sit on her bed with her cradled to him. 

The white noise in his head is silenced, her warmth seeping into his very bones. 

She buries her face in the crook of his neck like he enjoys doing. Breathy sobs wracking her body for a while before she quiets. The scent of him more soothing then it should be, hot metal and musk.

He's pressing his smooth lips against hers gently, coaxing at first. Then her arms go around his neck, holding him to her like he's her everything. And he believes he knows the feeling. 

He's stripping her of her jacket, hands at her hips squeezing. She's shifting to straddle him, tearing off her shirt only to be hindered when he buries his face into her breasts. 

Teeth scrape across her skin and he's groaning deeply, murmuring soft Russian words too low for her to hear. Her hips being to grind slow circles into his, gentle fingers sliding into his hair. 

She's fiddling with her bra before throwing it aside, granting him a sweet little mew once he takes her nipple into his mouth. 

Little kittenish noises only increasing as he sucks harshly, he doesn't want any of this to end. Gentle fingers tug at his hair, his head tipping back once he realizes that's what she wants.

Those pretty, plush lips are soon running along his throat. Her fingers are skittering along his chest, like she's committing him to her memory. 

He twists so she's pressed between him and the bed, depriving her of his neck as he sets himself to run kisses down the length of her.

"Asset I-"

"James."

She's pausing in her sex drunk fervor, leaning up on her elbows to look down at him. He's currently sucking a bite onto her hip, crystalline gaze flicking open to meet hers.

"I read the file. The one about me. My name is James." 

His voice is something she could get used to, dark and low. She's brushing fingers through his hair and shivering once he begins running his tongue across her skin.

Calloused fingers undo her jeans, dragging down and bringing pretty pink cotton panties with them. Her plush lips parting without a sound leaving her, chocolate hues taking in the sight of him studying her panties.

"Beautiful," is the only thing he says before her world is condensed down to him and everything hot. 

He's devouring her, thick thighs set over his shoulders while he digs his nails into her skin. Her fingers are tugging at his hair, listening to him snarl and pull her tight against his mouth. 

Tongue circling slickly around her clit before dipping inside of her, this rhythm only repeating to drive her further into insanity.

"James, please..." 

He groans against her, the action making her back arch. Thighs trembling by his ears as she finds the slick, hot release he's been teasing her with. She's hissing as his tongue licks a flat stripe, everything sensitive and swollen.

The sound of his pants unbuckling is like music to her ears, kneeling at the altar of her thighs he thinks he may never want to leave this, leave her. 

He's running the head along her lips before with a hot, wet thrust he's inside. Palms flat against her sheets, bracketing her head while he just feels. The noises in his head blissfully silent. 

She's quaking beneath him, crying in almost a sob when he pulls out and thrusts back in. 

A sound like a low chuckle leaves his smooth lips and she wants to fuck him until he's sweaty and all too sated in her sheets. 

"You taste like the cotton candy they have at Coney Island. It's gorgeous," she's moaning loudly; because if he would just keep talking she would be reduced to a warm puddle of 'take me'.

Soon his thrusts turn hard, leaving her arching and moaning. He's licking the sweat from her breasts, she's quivering and straining because it's right there.

Her breathy scream takes the form of his name and he's filling her up, not stopping until she's painted with him.

When he lifts his head from her neck, she's arching an elegant brow. He's still hard inside of her, his resounding chuckle warming to the core. Gentle fingers push lightly at his chest and he's moving, watching her thighs tremble as she turns her pretty backside to him on all fours. 

Brunette hair a perfect mess when she turns her head to him over her shoulder, motioning with a jerk of her head.

His hands shake as they find her hips because God, what did he do to deserve this. He's thrusting in hard, forcing a whine from her. 

So fucking tight. 

He's squeezing her hips, bringing her back while he thrusts forward and she's gorgeous like this. Down and dirty, nails digging into her sheets while he fucks her like she needs. 

"So beautiful, letting me have you like this." 

She's moaning in response, arms giving out to leave her cheek pressed to the rumpled bed spread. He doesn't know which sight is better, the long, glittering expanse of her back or her pretty lips parted and wordless while he ruins her.

Her eyes squeeze shut, fingers tightening to white knuckles as she squeezes him with her release. His own groan following while he holds himself inside to fill her with his own release. 

He's falling back, still rock hard. Her pretty little backside sticking up, lips slick and dripping him. Smooth lips run along each cheek, giving one a quick bite and thrilling in her resulting mewl.

She's flipping wordlessly onto her back, leaning up and smiling the most perfect smile at him. Her bright chocolate gaze traveling the length of him to find him still hard.

Her hands push him to lie back, straddling his hips and sliding onto him. Hips undulating to grind down onto him, his smooth lips parting wordlessly. 

"I'm going to be so sore tomorrow... Do forgive me if I hate you for it." 

His warm chuckle is all she needs before she's riding him at a gallop. Calloused fingers tracing her pretty lips until she's sucking one into her mouth, releasing him to kiss it.

Muscles ripple whilst he moved to sit, still towering over her even when she's got him inside of her. Her plush lips move to run kisses along his throat, his hands simply resting on her hips.

"James? Will you do me a favor?" 

He answers her with a hum, her light laugh bringing a ghost of a smile to his lips. She's leaning back to look him in the eyes, crimson stained lips brushing his.

"Fill me up, please?"

He's groaning as she squeezes her muscles around him, his head tipping back as he finds his release. She's making a little mew at the sensation, burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

Cool metal fingers stroke down her back, smooth lips pressing a kiss to her temple. She's lifting up and off him with shaking legs, falling down onto the bed. 

He's lying down after, sweaty and flushed. Her plush lips press to his, making him groan against her. Her responding laugh is music, smaller frame snuggling into his.

And for the first time in years, he feels human.

"James?" 

He's looking down at her expectantly, taking in her sex hair and bright smile. The only harsh thing about her being the light bruises still littering her face.

"Thank you," the phrase is ripe with implication. His lips pressing a kiss to her forehead before giving a soft nod.


End file.
